


Categories and Labels

by cjulina



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 12:27:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1428493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjulina/pseuds/cjulina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack's been acting strange and it's making Ianto twitchy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Categories and Labels

For the first time in over a year, Ianto found himself hiding in the calming sanctuary of the archives. It wasn’t as if he had been avoiding the area for the past several months. Truth be told, a significant portion of his daily routine was spent cataloging, organizing, storing, and retrieving countless files and alien artefacts in the dusty corridors and crowded rooms that were the Torchwood Archives. And, of course, it had become a popular destination for afternoon trysts with Jack.

When he had first started with Torchwood Three, delving into the archives had been an excuse to cover his true activities, keeping a low profile from the others while doing whatever necessary in his frantic attempt to save Lisa. After Lisa … after the debacle with the Cyberman, it had become the place where he retreated from the others when grief and guilt became too much to handle. But once they had forgiven him, and more importantly, once he had forgiven himself, he no longer used the archives as a means to hide away. It was simply a place where he performed a significant portion of his duties. Until today. Today, it was a retreat. Now he felt the need to flee, the impulse to hide away from the scrutiny, to escape from Jack with his inexplicable gaze.

Lately Jack had been acting odd, stranger even than his typical behavior which could, by no means, be considered normal by 21st century standards. Ianto had become more than accustomed to the constant leers from Jack. He relished the notion that Jack obviously enjoyed watching him. He loved the fact he could distract Jack from an important call with the PM by simply walking into his office and bending over to retrieve something from a low shelf. He treasured catching Jack staring at him while he wandered around the Hub. Ianto loved each and every look he received and he went out of his way to continue to catch the man’s eye.

But lately Jack’s looks were unsettling and they were making Ianto twitchy. More often than not, he would look over towards Jack’s office to find the man staring at him, not with his usual lecherous smirk, but with an intensely puzzled expression. Only last night, Ianto had woken from a sound sleep to find Jack, lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, staring down with his brilliant blue eyes as if he was trying to bore into the deepest portions of Ianto’s soul. The questions and doubts evident on Jack’s face had alarmed him. When questioned, Jack had deflected and then did his best to distract Ianto. His form of distraction had reduced the young man to nothing but a gibbering mass of heightened nerve endings. It had been two hours before he could form words; a third hour before he string together more than four words to form semi-coherent sentences. By the time Ianto had regained enough of his senses to confront Jack about his strange behavior, it was too late. Duties and tasks at the Hub were calling and Ianto resigned himself to another day of enduring the intense puzzling stares from Jack.

It had just become too much. When he had brought Jack his mid-morning cup of coffee, that same doubting, questioning gaze had met his eyes. Even straightening his tie with his left hand – their secret code for ‘meet me in the stationary cupboard in ten minutes for a quick snog session’ hadn’t stripped that disconcerting look from Jack’s eyes. In fact, it seemed to only intensify Jack’s peculiar demeanor. So Ianto retreated. He scooped up files and artefacts littered about the Hub and fled deep into the bowels of Torchwood, hoping to escape, for a while, from Jack’s nearly constant stare.

Ianto had just finished clipping a label on one of the many artefacts, clearly categorizing the item as being a harmless musical instrument from Trexillian 7. He was about to shelve it with the many other musical instruments collected over the decades by Torchwood teams when his hands started twitching. That could mean only one thing.

He whirled around, stunned to find Jack standing in the doorway, hands stuffed in his pockets, but with that same strange, bewildered, disconcerting stare that had been evident for days. “Jack? Is there something you want?”

Jack continued to stare a moment before taking a few steps into the room. “Ianto, what are we?”

“I’m sorry?”

He took a steadying breath before moving to stand in the center of the room. “Are we friends?”

Ianto blinked in surprise before replying. “Of course we are. Jack, what’s going on?”

Instead of answering immediately, Jack paced the floor for a while before leaning against a table, giving little consideration to the files stacked precariously on top. Normally, this would have earned him a scowl but Ianto was too stunned by the turn of events to even notice. He simply waited for a response.

“Are we lovers? Boyfriends? Partners? A couple? What are we?”

Ianto ran a flustered hand through his hair, trying but failing to discern exactly what was being asked. “Are you asking me to define our relationship?”

“Yeah, I guess I am.” Jack’s gaze dropped down to the files sitting next to him. Nervously he grabbed a few and began to rifle through the contents, quickly destroying all Ianto’s careful organization.

Ianto walked over and positioned himself between Jack’s legs, reaching down to remove the folders from his hands. “I thought you found labels quaint and unnecessary.”

Because Ianto was blocking his escape, Jack had to content himself with fidgeting nervously. The fidgeting caused several of the files to tumble off the table, scattering their contents haphazardly across the floor. With a sigh, Ianto dropped the folders in his hands to join the mess and simply waited for Jack to reply.

Jack didn’t quite meet his eyes when he finally spoke. “I’m from the 51st century. Labels and categories aren’t important in my time.”

“So what’s the problem?”

Jack looked nearly sheepish when he said, “I’ve been thinking. Categories and labels are important to you and I want to know how you would define what we have.”

Ianto couldn’t hold back the chuckle. “Of course categories are important to me, Jack. I’m an archivist. It’s my job to classify, label, categorize, and organize things. You could even say it’s in my nature to want things clearly defined.”

“And that’s the problem. You need those silly categories and definitions. I know it’s important to you so …” Jack’s voice trailed off as he looked with great intensity into Ianto’s eyes.

Ianto moved in even closer, raising his hands to play with Jack’s braces. “I can see this has been bothering you so how does this sound? We are … we are _us_. We’re Jack and Ianto. Ianto and Jack. We’re all the words you’ve used. We’re friends. We’re lovers and boyfriends. We are a couple.” He paused to quickly brush his lips across Jack’s. “We are all those things and so much more. We are what we choose to make this relationship. So if you were to push me into choosing just one word to describe what we are, it would be ‘us’.”

“Us. I like that.” Jack leaned up, giving Ianto a slow, leisurely kiss. “That’s the perfect label. Us.”

Ianto pulled back and straightened his tie with his left hand. “The offer of the stationary cupboard is still on the table.”

With a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, Jack said, “I was thinking more along the lines of …” He then reached up and undid the top button on Ianto’s waistcoat.

Ianto grinned as he leaned in for another kiss. “I like the way you think, Jack Harkness.”


End file.
